


jealousy

by prettiestsailor



Series: lessons of elysium [2]
Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Feasts, I just like giving Theseus the journey of emotional healing he needs, It's in the same universe as 'redemption' but you honestly don't need to have read it, Kink Meme, M/M, talking about feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:40:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29882634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettiestsailor/pseuds/prettiestsailor
Summary: When Theseus watches a group of shades lavish praise on Asterius, he is racked with jealousy. An old friend helps him through it.
Relationships: Asterius | The Minotaur/Theseus (Hades Video Game)
Series: lessons of elysium [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2197074
Comments: 8
Kudos: 52





	jealousy

Feasts were a regular part of life in Elysium, and they were something Theseus enjoyed—especially when they were held in his name, and _especially_ when they were also held in Asterius’s. On the road to their latest feast, the pair, having achieved a rare defeat over the daemon from Tartarus, walked hand in hand through the fields of Elysium, Theseus telling a winding tale of one of his voyages, Asterius listening carefully.

“You know,” Theseus said, “today’s victory was yours, Asterius.”

Asterius snorted. “I disagree, king. It was ours.”

But Theseus had thought back to it: how, from his chariot, he had done little damage to the fiend, his bullets mostly missing the mark. Meanwhile, Asterius, strong and precise as ever, had swung his labrys with all his might, successfully bludgeoning their enemy into submission.

“No, my friend,” Theseus leaned into Asterius’s shoulder. “You deserve all the praise in Elysium, and I will happily give it to you.”

They arrived at the feast hall before long, a grand chamber with ornate, throne-like chairs and tables. As usual, it was full of the exalted—warriors and politicians and thinkers—and a small amount of manoeuvring was required to make it through to their seats.

As usual, Theseus and Asterius sat together throughout the feast, making conversation with the shades around them but always paying special attention to each other. They had done little to conceal the nature of their relationship, and Theseus in particular knew that his tendency to speak just the _slightest_ bit too often and too highly of Asterius at occasions like these was sure to give it away. Still, it did not bother him.

When the feast was over, the hall was cleared almost instantly of tables and the chairs found their way to the walls—one of the conveniences of the ever-shifting Elysium—and so the room was left open for shades to continue to drink and mingle. Glued to Asterius’s side until this point, Theseus left him briefly to refill his wine cup. When he turned back, his stomach dropped.

Asterius was surrounded by shades—fans, by the looks of things—who were showering him with praise and clamouring for his attention. Some had even gone straight over to him, admiringly stroking his forearms or looking at him with eyes that were nothing short of _sultry_. And, to add insult to injury, Asterius was enjoying it—Theseus could tell by the subtle twitch of his ear; the gentleness of his snorts.

Theseus knew that he had no chance of breaking through the throng and rejoining his companion, and so he felt that he had little choice but to watch. A lightning bolt of jealousy tore through him, sharp and electric and all-consuming. He pulsated with anxious desperation, his chest tight, his heart racing, a dull ache throbbing throughout his entire self. The feeling was singular, making itself known as something that could never be pushed down or overruled, declaring that it would overtake him, slowly, until there was nothing left of his heart except for this.

He looked on, utterly immobile, as if he had been cast in marble, and his heart sank further and further while he watched. For every one of the shades who flirtatiously touched Asterius’s elbow, or whispered their adulation to him, or stared at him as though he were a god, Theseus felt the pangs in his chest grow larger, until it felt like it had imploded, leaving nothing but a gaping cavity. It was as though a piece of himself were taken away, as though it had been cut out of him and spread around and _mocked_ by these shades who now took his place.

Because his place _was_ being taken here, wasn’t it? Not because Asterius had some sort of disregard for him, but because these shades were so obviously encroaching on what he had built. As he heard them laugh with Asterius, he seized up, and as he saw them grab Asterius’s strong biceps, he felt like he was going to boil over. Sadness and anger passed over him, wave after wave, bringing him ever-closer to the inevitability that he was going to _lose_ Asterius; that Asterius was going to realise, finally, how unworthy he was and leave him, and that there was nothing he could do to stop any of this.

Theseus took a deep breath. The afterlife was supposed to be a release, so why was he still racked with this torment? It felt wrong. Besides, he had been over all of this before, when he had been consumed by fears that that hellspawn would take Asterius away from him. He covered his face with his hands. He had to stop thinking like this—it had led him nowhere productive before.

And yet, it was hard to think of anything else. He tried to look away, but his eyes were drawn back always to the scene in front of him. And so he sat down, brow furrowed, gripping his wine cup like a vice, reasoning that if he squeezed it hard enough, this overwhelming dread would somehow be channeled into the vessel instead. This did not, unfortunately, appear to work. He found himself unusually quiet—sulking, one might say—and wishing he could be literally anywhere else.

And then, a low, silky voice called out behind him,

“It’s a while since I’ve seen _that_ look on your face.”

Theseus turned around to face Hippolyta, whose dark eyes hinted at a smile. She was wearing a white peplos, matching her hair which, combined with her mahogany-toned skin, made her resemblance to her father, Ares, rather striking.

“Queen Hippolyta,” Theseus said, doing his best to bear himself with gravitas in an attempt to hide the cavernous feeling inside him. “It is a pleasure to see you.”

“May I sit?” she asked, already lowering herself to the chair beside him. He nodded. She continued. “You know, Theseus, you’ve never been difficult to read. Even back then, it was my fault for being naïve.”

Theseus thought back to their past. They had met when he had traveled with Heracles, who had set out to find Hippolyta’s girdle. Expecting the fearsome Amazon to be an intractable foe, they were surprised to meet her and discover someone so kind and lively and adventurous. Theseus had quickly taken a liking to her, but though he wished for her friendship, it had turned into something more in the heat of the moment.

By the time they made it to Athens, she was carrying his child, and so they married—no small sacrifice on the part of Hippolyta, who betrayed the Amazons in doing this. When their son, Hippolytus, was born, Theseus realised that the relationship had been all wrong, and cast her aside, marrying Phaedra instead. She had come to an unpleasant end at the hands of her own warriors after that.

“Do not blame yourself,” he said, after a pause. “I made many mistakes in my lifetime.” It was hard to bear the weight of all of these thoughts. The jealousy had been enough—now, the unshakeable guilt pressed down further on him. Though he and Hippolyta had made things up in Elysium, Theseus found it difficult to forgive himself.

“You are anxious about them,” Hippolyta said, gesturing towards the shades who surrounded Asterius. Theseus gripped his cup even harder, until his knuckles were pale with the strain.

He stuttered out a response. “That… That’s… Why do you even say that?”

“As I said, you are easy to read.” She offered him a smile.

“Well,” Theseus said, taking a deep breath, “Since you are so observant, I must admit that you are not wrong. These shades, they are all so much more… straightforward than I. And they are all so beautiful and noble and—just look at the way they are making Asterius laugh. I fear that he will soon realise what a mistake he has made, with me. And then I fear that I… I fear that I…” He was shaking. Hippolyta placed a hand on his shoulder, steadying him.

“Come, now, Theseus,” she said. “Let us step outside.”

He followed as she guided him out of the hall, struck by the light—these feasts and celebrations often reminded him of nighttime in the mortal realm, and the ever-bright light of Ixion still surprised him at times.

“Hippolyta,” he said. “You know that you need not do this for me, I hope.” It was easy, with someone he knew so well, to let his guard down and show his vulnerable side.

“I am aware,” she said, with a smile. “But for all that we have been through, I consider you a friend.” This sent a shockwave of pain through Theseus, reflecting on the graciousness of a person whose downfall he had brought about.

His body felt heavy with doubt, and he pointed towards a fountain in the distance. “Shall we sit?” he asked. Hippolyta nodded and followed him over. They sat at its base, backs against stone.

“You know,” Hippolyta said, “you have never had the same admiration for yourself that others do.”

“ _Others_ do not know of the mistakes I have made. They do not know of my flaws.” Theseus felt the dewy grass under his legs, bearing down into it.

“Do you believe that you are the only hero with flaws?”

“Of course not,” Theseus said, “but those exalted shades”—they flashed across his mind again, laughing and smiling with Asterius—“they have never erred like I have. I have been _so_ cruel, Hippolyta. You know this.”

“I do,” she said, “and yet I am here. Does that not suggest, at least, that you can be forgiven?”

Theseus looked away. “When I am with Asterius, sometimes I feel that I can. But then I see how easily I could be supplanted, and by someone who deserves him more than I do.”

Hippolyta wrapped a comforting arm around his shoulder. “People do not ‘deserve’ one another, Theseus. We are not prizes or spoils or earnings. Love is a matter of feelings between people. If you love one another, and treat each other accordingly, that is all the ‘deserving’ that matters.”

“You are wise, Hippolyta,” Theseus said, resting into her touch, letting himself be weak as he so rarely did. “I do love him, truly. That is why I am so afraid of losing him.”

“If you love him so, why do you not trust him? Those fans are simply appreciating him. They will not change his feelings.” Her tone was caring, but firm.

“That is true,” Theseus said. “And besides, when I do not think of myself, I am happy indeed that he is receiving that recognition. He deserves to know that he is so heroic, after all. And that he is so strong, and so beautiful, and so very—”

“All right, I get it.” Hippolyta cut him off with a fond chuckle. “You really do adore him, don’t you?”

“With all of my ethereal soul.” Theseus sighed. Saying all of this made the weight lift from him a little. “I do trust him. It is myself I do not. I cannot trust that I will be enough—certainly not enough for him to love me for all eternity.”

“He has chosen you, and he has given his heart to you,” Hippolyta said. “You do not need to understand his reasoning, only that it is so. Maybe, in time, you will come to see what he sees in you. But until then, your trust in him will have to do. If there were some reason to be concerned about these shades, or anything else that may come your way throughout eternity, I am sure he would tell you. But know that the devotion he feels for you—it is palpable.” Her smile was kind, and the arm around Theseus was warm and unwavering.

“I wish to be as wise as you,” Theseus said.

“Yes, well,” Hippolyta said, a teasing note entering her voice, “Athenians have always been known for their wisdom and intelligence. I suppose they needed someone like you to balance things out.”

“You would kick a man while he is down?” Theseus said, feigning offence.

At once, they laughed together, and the tension was expelled from Theseus’s mind and body, as though it were carried away by the wind. They sat together a while longer, catching up and sharing stories of their times in Elysium. Theseus was the first to stand up, extending a hand to help Hippolyta up with him.

“I am truly grateful to you,” he said, “and you say we are friends now? Good. Let us keep it that way, for you are a most noble and honourable friend.”

Hippolyta giggled. “And you are extravagant as ever. I am simply happy to help.”

They walked back to the hall together, and Theseus felt a twinge of anxiety wash over him as he entered, the vestiges of his earlier fears creeping up on him again.

These, however, were assuaged quickly when he saw Asterius, who was now alone, and who came over to him immediately.

“My king,” he said. 

Theseus took his hand and pressed light kisses to his large knuckles, speaking into them, “my beloved.”

“I have been looking for you,” Asterius said, tracing circles on the back of Theseus’s hand with his thumb.

“My apologies, Asterius. I just needed some fresh air, so Hippolyta and I went outside for a moment.” In truth, he didn’t know how long it had been. “I hope I did not worry you.”

“You did not. Please don’t apologise,” Asterius said. “It was just that somebody gave me this”—he stuck out his other hand, which was holding a rather fine bottle of wine, like something from Dionysus’s personal stash—“and I wanted to share it with you, if you would like.”

This filled Theseus with a sense of tenderness. Smiling and dumbfounded, he stared up at Asterius. He released the hand he held and instead wrapped his arm around Asterius’s waist, stroking his back.

Hippolyta was right. Asterius had chosen Theseus and had given him his heart; decided to spend his days with him; gave him love and asked nothing in return. That was his choice, and it was not for Theseus to question its legitimacy or its endurance.

And as Asterius’s eyes looked into his, gentle and patient, he thought, as he so often did, that all he wanted to do was show him the same love in return.

“Dear Asterius,” he said, “I would love nothing more.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!! This is my first time writing something for the Hades kink meme. Here was the prompt:
> 
> "theseus and asterius are at a party celebrating their victories as champions, or perhaps some feast honoring a god (or hell, they could be at one of dionysus's parties). while theseus is preoccupied, some of the other shades use the opportunity to hit on asterius and get a little handsy with him. theseus sees this from across the room and is, in typical theseus fashion, jealous as all hell.
> 
> what happens next is up to you! it could be pre-relationship or established relationship. maybe theseus is angry at himself for feeling like he has a claim to asterius's affections, when asterius should be able to enjoy himself however he wants. maybe theseus feels insecure that perhaps he's not good enough for asterius, who seems to be flustered/enjoying the positive attention. maybe theseus breaks up the group of admirers, perhaps by making some sort of flimsy excuse to pull asterius away from them. aside from the general premise, the content and ending is entirely up to you!
> 
> it can be any rating you want, anywhere from gen to explicit (as long as there's no dubcon, please!)  
> bonus:  
> \+ some characters or heroes like pirithous or perseus seeing theseus's poorly concealed reaction and responding to it ("dude chill out")("ooohhh theseus is jealouuuus!!!")"
> 
> Hippolyta totally does not have to forgive Theseus but she seems very nice so there you go. I'm firmly on team "give Theseus and Asterius more friends".
> 
> Follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/prettiestsailor) if you like!


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